Saving Mr Holmes
by iron-holmes
Summary: Rachel Levine is back at Sherlock's side and is ready to follow him to the ends of the Earth. What happens when that's actually the case? And what does Jim Moriarty have planned for Rachel and Sherlock's relationship? Sherlock/OC


**Okay so here's the sequel! I have a lot in store for these characters so their stories will not be over soon. You can't get rid of me that easily ;) Any way, I've been thinking and I believe that I found the perfect actress to portray Rachel! Laura Dale, who plays the blonde drug smuggler in Many Happy Returns will be Rachel and it's perfect that she plays in that mini episode because I've got stuff planned :D Enjoy this chapter!**

"You are such an idiot sometimes"

"Only sometimes?"

"Let me rephrase that: you are such an idiot _all the time_"

"Am I an idiot all the time, John?" Sherlock asked his dear friend, Dr. John Watson.

"I wouldn't say idiot. I'd say a rude dick, but in this case you're both" John replied, smiling at his best friend.

"This is by far, you're craziest plan" Rachel declared.

"Which is what makes it so brilliant!" Sherlock beamed. He leaned down and pecked her on the cheek before bounding out of the car.

"This is all your fault" Rachel told the man across her in the limo as she followed Sherlock outside.

"I'd rather not argue with her" John concluded as he followed suit.

"I'm starting to think this was a bad idea" Mycroft Holmes muttered to himself as he followed his companions, which he invited to the ball at the Nation Gallery, which they were all currently attending.

**Rachel's POV**

To be honest, I was excited to attend this special event. Even if it was for a case. Even if we were going to get killed. Even if Mycroft was here and he and Sherlock were going to kill each other before the rest of our little gang gets killed.

"If we get killed, I'm going to take it _very_ personally" I whispered to Sherlock as we entered the grand hall which was buzzing with aristocrats or artists in scarves and sparkly shoes.

"We won't get killed" Sherlock scoffed adjusting the glasses on the tip of his nose, which were part of his 'disguise'. I don't know why he called it a disguise, he looked the same, except he was wearing a black velvet suit with a white button down and a bow tie and black square glasses. He looked the same to me. Same Sherlock. Same idiot.

As for me, I didn't deem a disguise very necessary. I was wearing an open back, dark blue gown which pooled around my high heel clad feet in silky ruffles. I was wearing a minimal amount of make up My hair was styled in a careful bun so I hope we won't be running around anywhere because it took me quite a while to keep my hair in it's current state.

"Then why do you have a gun tucked into the back of your trousers?" I asked him quietly as a man in a white tuxedo offered us champagne.

"You're observation skills have certainly gotten better" Sherlock commented.

"If you two are done your flirting, we've got a painting to find" John said as he approached us.

"You've no need to be grumpy because you couldn't find someone to accompany you tonight. Mycroft's here" Sherlock beamed.

"You know what, you can go back to your flirting" John huffed in defeat and departed god knows where. I laughed lightly as John stomped away in his fancy tuxedo to rejoin Mycroft who was chatting with some rich old men with bushy mustaches. I glanced at Sherlock who was observing each and every person the hall. People we're either dancing to the sweet tunes of the band or talking and sipping champagne while looking at the paintings.

"What do you see?" I asked him.

"Everything. That is my curse" He replied, not even pulling his attention away from every human being in this room.

"Let's dance" Sherlock stated, almost like coming out of a trance. He took my hand and led towards where other couples were dancing.

"What's the plan?" I asked Sherlock as we began waltzing around the marble tiles.

"We pretend were a normal couple who are enjoying an evening at the Art Gallery. Then we go find the painting" Sherlock explained.

"What?" He asked as he noticed my smile.

"Normal couple? Is that what we are?" I asked him.

"I certainly hope not. That would be incredibly dull and absolutely not entertaining" Sherlock replied.

"So me screaming at bloody organs in the fridge is entertaining?" I inquired.

"Of course" Sherlock said, giving me a dazzling smile.

"Arse-hole" I commented.

"Idiot" He retorted.

And that was it. That was the principles of our relationship. We have a nice moment, he ruins it, I insult him, he insults me and we usually end up making out or shagging after that. Now I just smiled because it felt normal. I was so used to this that it just felt very normal. Not like the typical couple you see holding hands in the park. More like the two people who always make fun of each other and get on the other's nerves because they love them to much to not do exactly that. Because I love Sherlock Holmes.

I know John loves the detective as well. Platonic love or not, they're best friend and no matter what Sherlock says, I know both of them will always be there for each other. And I'll be there for them as well.

####

I think it would've been nice if Sherlock would have at least told us the painting we were searching for. Now, after two people were shot, he decides to say that it's J.M.W Turner's masterpiece, the Falls of the Reichenbach. So here we were, running down dark hallways filled with priceless paintings, looking for the shooter who "could obviously lead us to the painting".

"We need to find John and Mycroft. They could be in danger" I hissed at Sherlock as we turned a corner only to spot the tail of a blazer as our shooter ran off again.

"We're all in danger if we don't stop that man" Sherlock exclaimed. Yes he was right but while we're chasing the shooter, John and Mycroft are no where to be found-

"Quiet" Sherlock said, as he ran to a halt.

"I didn't say anything" I protested, running a hand through my hair which very sadly had fallen out of it's beautiful bun.

"You we're thinking. It's distracting" Sherlock explained, closing his eyes and exhaling deeply.

"Shall I stop breathing then? Maybe that's distracting as well" I said sarcastically.

"I was joking, Sherlock. I'm not planning on dying just because it's distracting you" I added as the detective opened his mouth in reply.

"Someone's coming" He said suddenly. I looked around the dark hallway. The marbles pillars were causing massive shadows from the stain glasses windows through which moonlight streamed in. We we're alone, if you don't count the paintings who were beginning to get creepy.

"Okay, don't panic" Sherlock stated.

"Wha-" I couldn't finish my sentence because Sherlock had pinned me to the pillar we had been standing next to and crushed his lips to mine. Then I heard the footsteps on the marble tiles and understood what Sherlock was doing. He said we we're supposed to look like a normal couple. And what do normal couples do when tipsy? They make out in dark, creepy hallways, so apparently that's what we're doing. I deepened the kiss as the footsteps approached us. Just in case this didn't look believable, I tangled my fingers in Sherlock's curls. I heard someone chuckle as the footsteps disappeared. As quick as the kiss started, it was over.

"Quick, we need to follow him!" Sherlock whispered, taking my hand and running after the man, whoever he was.

As soon as we caught up with the man, I noticed we were in what looked like a storage room. There were canvases covered by clothes and boxes and crates all around us in the giant room. I heard two voices, definitely male, as Sherlock and I crept around the massive crates. He had his gun out in front of him. Suddenly, there was a cry of pain and scuffling. A shot was fired and something heavy hit the floor with a thud. I immediately ran after Sherlock as he went to investigate what happened.

"John" I breathed out a sigh of relief as I throw my arms around him.

"I know where the painting is, no thanks to Mycroft" John informed us, giving Mycroft a scowl.

"Where is it?" Sherlock asked, not looking at John for he was busy observing the two dead men on the floor.

"That's the complicated part" John replied.

"Then you shouldn't have shot them, we could have gotten their help" I remarked.

"No they're not important. Both in their mid thirties. Neither is married. Judging by their clothes, I'd say they get paid a lot to work in an art gallery and smuggle paintings then re sell them. Nothing of importance there" Sherlock deduced.

"So where is the painting?" Sherlock asked, stepping away from the dead men.

"John overheard them talking about it. It's hidden in the air vents above this very room. The complicated part is how to retrieve it from such confined places" Mycroft explained.

"Over there" Sherlock suddenly said, pointing at the vent just above a rather large crate not far from us.

"But how we do get the painting?" I inquired.

"You're going climb in the vent and get it" Sherlock said as casually as saying hello.

"I am not climbing in there" I protested straight away.

"Out of all us, you and John are the most capable for this task considering your height. But John is out of the question because he's put on a few pounds since we got back from Dartmoor. Unlike John, you kept in shape because you go to the gym everyday after work" Sherlock explained.

"I hate you" I told him.

"Good luck, darling" He said, smiling and kissing my temple.

"Where are you going?" I asked, slightly alarmed when they made for the door.

"Those air vents lead to somewhere. So we're going somewhere" Sherlock said before retreating from the room, followed by Mycroft and John, who offered my a warm smile. Great. This is just brilliant.

####

The painting is definitely not in the air vents. I'm certain of it. I'm certain Sherlock knows it's not there. If he said that only _I_ can fit in there to retrieve it, then how could some stoic thug have hid a priceless painting deep inside? If there's no answer, there's no question. So I somehow managed to fall through a trap door that was hidden by a painting that was probably bigger than me. Now, I don't know where I am. It's a very narrow, very dark passage made out of bricks so it's definitely old. I'm trailing my hand on the bricks so I know where they stop. There's absolutely no sound, not event the music or chatter from the grande hall, but I doubt everyone is so casual after a shooting. The police must already be here. But if there's no sound and I'm not wearing a watch, what's the current _beep-beep-beep_filling the silence. It wasn't there a moment ago. I looked around me, to find nothing but darkness. I glanced up to find the same bricks and glanced down to find a glass floor. What caught my breath was the items under the glass. Among a dozen activated bombs with red flashing lights, lay the rolled up Turner painting. Well that's just great. I find the painting and get blown up. The universe certainly fancies me.

I crouched down and removed my heels. This better be worth it because these shoes are Louis Vuitton. I turned my head away as I threw the show at the floor with all my might. I automatically shielded my eyes as soon as I heard glass shattering. When it was quiet again, I reopened my eyes and looked down. The timer read 1:37. I was walking around here for about 10 minutes so if I run I can make it quickly right? I grabbed the painting, not even bothering to take my shoes because they had ripped thanks to the glass. I gathered the skirts of my gown and ran at full speed towards where I came. I need to warn Sherlock to get everyone out. I fished my phone out of the small purse I had brought along with me and called him.

"_Rachel, have you gotten the painting?_" He asked.

"Get everyone out the building, there's a bomb!" I exclaimed.

"_Rachel-_" Sherlock began but I had already hung up. I was running very fast now. My track coach would be proud of me. I could already see the light streaming in from the exit. I heard voices too. Mostly shouting. I clutched the painting close to me because I really don't want to die in vain. I heard someone yelling as I reached the door through which I fell into this creepy hell-hole. Whoever was yelling, I can now comprehend they are yelling my name. I ran through the threshold and heard Sherlock yelling my name across the storage room. Crap, he needs to get out or we'll both die.

"RACHEL!" He yelled again, somewhere in the maze of crates and boxes.

"Sherlock run!" I shouted as I attempted to place his position in the room by how close his voice was. I didn't have time to hear what he had to say because I was tackled to the ground by something heavy.

Suddenly the world was turn upside. Everything was extremely loud at first then unnaturally quiet. It was really warm. Warm and quiet. Two things that intrigue me considering I live in a cold and loud city. It was very warm, and I could feel someone shaking me but I couldn't hear anything. When my vision focused on what was in front of me, I recognized Sherlock. His lips were moving but nothing was coming out. He looked very scared. His usually pale face was covered with black dust. Ashes? Almost like resurfacing after diving into water, I was plunged into a world of sound.

"Rachel, love, are you alright?" I heard Sherlock ask me.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine" I managed to say. I looked around, everything was either on fire or already burned. The bomb must have gone off!

"You need to get up, darling. We've got to get out of here" Sherlock said, standing up and offering me his hand. I took it and stood up as well, noticing I still had the rolled up painting in the other hand.

"You're okay" I heard Sherlock murmur as I wrapped an arm around my shoulders and led me through the fire and the debris.

####

I blinked a couple of times as we were escorted outside by a couple of firemen. The fresh air momentarily seemed foreign to me after being trapped in a building full of fire and smoke for 20 minutes. Sherlock made a fuss with the paramedics saying that we were both alright and that our friend was doctor. Then I spotted John who hurried over to us. He had a bit of dust on his blazer but that was all. He explained to me that Mycroft had gone to speak to the press about this matter and that we we're going home. I just nodded and walked where John or Sherlock led me. I was still dazed or shaken up or whatever. All I know is that if I had been any slower, I'd have died and so would have Sherlock, because he was an idiot for trying to come to my rescue.

When we got back to Baker Street. I sat on the couch of my flat staring at the ceiling while Sherlock sat staring at me. He was quiet, just like me, ever since we got home. I don't know why I was reacting like this. Maybe I was going into shock. Maybe I was already in shock. But shock didn't stop me from laying my head on Sherlock's chest and counting his heart beat until I fell asleep.

**I hope you guys liked this! I'm going to try write about the cases that happened at the beginning of the Reichenbach Fall because I think it'll be interresting for you guys. Unless I can think of good cliffhangers, one case= one chapter. I'll update as soon as I can!**


End file.
